


Solace

by Briarwolf (Tru)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-13
Updated: 2004-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tru/pseuds/Briarwolf
Summary: When everything is going wrong, they always have each other. Set during OotP.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Harry Potter/Ron Weasley FQF (hprwfqf). The challenge was "A missing scene from OotP at Grimmauld Place after Mr. Weasly is injured." Obviously, slight spoilers for OotP. The section from OotP that this follows is in italics. My thanks to JP for the beta.

_"Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went up to the bedroom he had shared with Ron over the summer, but while Ron crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and awake to find that he had attacked Ron, or else slithered through the house after one of the others...._

_When Ron woke up, Harry pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too."_

_~OotP, page 481 (US hardcover edition)_

His eyes were closed, lashes fanning darkly against the pale skin of his cheeks. The soft sound of his breathing carried across the room, steady and regular. The casual observer would think that he slept, but Ron knew better.

He’d watched Harry sleep before, more often than he cared to admit. He’d seen the hand that lay clenched in a tight fist on the blankets now sprawled and loose, free from the daily stress that came from being The Boy Who Lived. When Ron woke at night, the sight of Harry sleeping peacefully was a comfort.

Of course, the night before had been different. It figured that Harry would have nightmares, but when he’d seen Harry thrashing about in the bed he’d known something wasn’t right. When he hadn’t been able to wake Harry he’d been more frightened than at any other time in his life. When Harry did wake, fighting sickness to tell Ron that his father had been attacked, he’d wondered for a moment if his friend had gone mad. The astonishing speed with which Dumbledore had whisked them out of Hogwarts proved otherwise, and now they could do nothing but wait here at Grimmauld Place.

Even without the tell-tale sign of Harry’s clenched fist he would have known that Harry wasn’t asleep. Ron had seen his friend sitting against the hard, cold bars at the head of the bed. When Ron had stirred, Harry had slid quickly beneath his covers, tossing his glasses onto the table beside the bed and taking up the act he maintained now.

Ron understood, of course. He’d felt the need to hide things from his best friend as well, though for far different reasons. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of bed and padded across the distance that separated them. Now he could see the tense lines that bracketed Harry’s lips and the tightness of his faintly fluttering eyelids. Dark strands of hair covered the scar that shouted his identity to the world, leaving him looking like an ordinary boy. But scar or no, he would never be ordinary to Ron.

Harry’s eyes cracked open and then flew wide at the sight of Ron standing over him. He couldn’t hide the raw edge of self-recrimination and fear in his eyes fast enough to keep Ron from catching it. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak Ron laid his palm lightly over Harry’s lips.

Harry’s hand wrapped around his wrist, but he didn’t try and pull Ron’s hand away. His fingers were cool against Ron’s skin as their eyes met, a noticeable contrast to the warmth of his breath on Ron’s palm.

The silence that stretched between them was brittle, and Ron knew that breaking it with his voice would be a mistake. Trying to reassure Harry once again that it wasn’t his fault would only make the other boy withdraw further into himself.

Instead, Ron’s hand rose, brushing away the black hair that covered Harry’s scar before leaning down to press his lips against the mark. He felt Harry suck in a sharp breath, and his fingers tightened around Ron’s wrist. Slowly, Ron pulled his hand back and straightened slightly, but Harry didn’t release him. Harry’s fingers trembled slightly against Ron’s skin, and Ron could feel his own palms grow slightly damp.

Harry’s head tipped back against the pillow, and Ron’s head lowered again, this time their lips touched hesitantly. Once, then again, Ron brushed his lips across Harry’s. He was unable to shut his eyes to the sight of Harry, whose own eyes were closed beneath his gaze. For just a moment his tongue smoothed lightly over Ron’s lower lip, before a slight twist of his head broke the brief kiss.

The grip of Harry’s hand on Ron’s wrist loosened slid down, his fingers tangling tightly with Ron’s. He tugged, and Ron climbed under the blanket to lie down beside Harry, arm across his chest so their hands stayed clasped.

Ron’s head settled on Harry’s shoulder, his body pressed tightly against Harry’s side. He could hear the soft sound of Harry’s breath, caught in a sudden half-sob that disrupted the rise and fall under Ron’s cheek. Ron tightened his arm around him. He felt Harry’s arm come up around his back, fingers digging almost desperately into Ron’s shoulder.

The two lay there for a long time, taking comfort in the warmth and silence that surrounded them. A rap at the door and Mrs. Weasley’s voice calling them to lunch pulled them apart. They didn’t speak of what had passed between them, caught up in the hectic events of the remainder of the day, but Ron could still feel the press of Harry’s lips against his. For him that was enough until darkness fell and they could find solace in each other.


End file.
